Brothers of Mage
by Elixa Amethyst
Summary: Set before the time of the first Order of the Pheonix, or just before that even. Voldemort's first rise to power and his original death eaters. Ignan Storm is in his last year of Hogwarts, making the decision to follow his brother into the dark or not. Hi


**Chapter One  
Goblin**

"AND DON'T EVEN THINK OF SHOWING YOUR FACES IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN!" The hot iron warmed by the deep kitchen fireplace bounced violently off the doorframe of the Welsh farmhouse, leaving a dent and burn but missing its two targets. It landed in the puddle of muddy water nearby on the earth and lay cooling rapidly. The two of them fled like bats out of hell away from the door, splashing through puddles and shielding their faces from the cold driving rain. They sought solace in the opposite barn, chickens scattering around their legs as they fought each other to get up the ladder to the hayloft, eventually giving up and running through the quagmire up the hill to the nestling of trees where the winter river was running deep.  
Panting they rested, chests heaving, leaning their backs against each other. The rain fell heavily above them on the leaves that acted like an almighty umbrella, shielding them from the heavens dropping their weight as the cloud descended ever lower over their hiding place. Ignan wiped his red hair from his eyes and gave a shiver at the cold breeze that found them on their solitary rock above the steep drop to the riverbed, carpeted by fallen leaves of autumn. Morsan turned his head to look at his younger brother, rainwater dripping off his nose.  
"You've done it this time, I know it." Ignan spoke, his voice almost drowned out by the rainwater pounding like a hundred hammers on the leaves above them.  
"She'll calm, there be no reason to fret brother." He watched the elder smile slightly with evil intent. Ignan stood from their cold throne and shook his head.  
"You're wrong, so utterly wrong." Morsan sat back and laughed, his pale face never blooming colour as Ignan stared at him, not understanding how his brother could dare, how he could find it in his heart to do such as thing. His brother's humour darkened the rain cloud brought on by their mother's mood. Less than twenty minutes previously, she had been ironing in a mood to match a Hungarian Horntail on their father's anniversary of passing, when Morsan had casually mentioned that it was her fault their father had drunk himself to death in a tavern in darkest England. The argument that had ensued had resulted in the both of them being thrown out of the house with their mother's best iron, charmed to keep its heat from the cauldron fire in the kitchen hearth.  
"She'll recover. Anyway, the old hag did as I said." Morsan said, rolling over on the stone and leaping to his feet.  
"She didn't let him drink himself to death, there was nothing she could do! It was drink or the Ministry Morsan." Ignan spat.  
"He chose the coward's way." Their faces closed in on each other, Morsan's glare intent on overpowering his brother. Ignan fought back, losing his temper. His older brother was more skilled at the craft than him, and floored Ignan onto the mud and leaves, sending him sliding down the slope, Ignan grabbed at trees as he kept firm hold of his wand. All the way down he could hear the roar of the rain and his brother's wild laughter. Bruised and shaken Ignan picked himself up, and ran a hand over his forehead, sealing a wound before he grasped his ankle and healed the sprain on that too. Morsan had retired away from the drop, no doubt in search of some poor animal to torture or part of the dark craft to practise. Ignan was thankful he had left him for once. His brother had changed drastically since leaving the school Ignan was spending his last year in, only to have returned home for the Christmas season. The two of them may have resided in the house of Slytherin, but his brother had become acquainted with the type their father once had mixed with. This, the type their mother cursed on a daily basis, prayed her sons would not mix with and their type would never cross the threshold of her house. Ignan swallowed a little rainwater from the river in his cupped hand, consuming his fears as they gathered. It was then that he noticed he was not alone in the reflection of the running water.  
"Frightful weather isn't it?" The goblin was sat on a stump beneath a large black umbrella drinking a cup of steaming beverage. Ignan raised his wet head, his hair plastered to his face. He had never, ever seen a goblin out of Gringotts, which in this day appeared to be their natural habitat.  
"Quite." Ignan replied, following it with an uncomfortable gulp. He couldn't help but notice the amazing length of the goblin's fingers, such that the cup was several inches from the palm of the hand.  
"You don't mind me asking, what you're doing here?" The young wizard asked, sinking down onto the muddy bank side. The goblin regarded him with dark eyes that resembled endless dark tunnels of nothingness, and made him shiver all the more, despite forgetting the rain.  
"Watching." The goblin replied, as if it was the obvious answer. Ignan frowned and peered at the face beneath the umbrella as its owner took a long drink of the steaming liquid.  
"Watching?" Ignan asked, confused. The goblin did not answer. Instead a shout from above indicated his brother had found something to torture. He looked up suddenly, unable to hear exactly what was being said. When he turned back, he found himself facing the opposite bank where a vacated tree-stump resided. The umbrella, steaming cup and the goblin were now all absent and he rubbed his eyes. Perhaps he'd hit his head on the way down - which would be about right. Shaking his head, Ignan Storm began to climb back up.

"Do you think she's calmed down yet?" Ignan asked, staring at the flames from the fire conjured between them, warming their cold bodies, even though they had charmed their clothes dry as the rain had let off.  
"Probably not, but who wants their mother?" Morsan asked, stretching out on the four-poster bed he'd produced by a spell. Ignan sufficed with the rock they had been sat on earlier, preferring not to waste his energy.  
"Do you know how much money I am making in London Ignan? Could you even guess?" Morsan peered at his younger brother and continued.  
"Twenty thousand galleons a night." Ignan let out a laugh.  
"Are they paying you not to come to their parties Morsan, or perhaps to scare Muggles away from their door?" His older brother swung his legs off the bed, leaning forwards towards the fire.  
"No, they're paying me to do magic you wouldn't learn at Hogwarts. Where I am, you'd learn a whole lot more about true magic than you would ever learn."  
"Dark magic is not something I care to learn at present Morsan. I would rather murder my own mother."  
"I know men who have." Morsan's voice was low as he husked across at his brother. Ignan turned on the rock.  
"Associate with goblins by the way?" He asked. His brother suddenly sounded like he was choking to death, and Ignan turned to see his eyes bulge.  
"_What?_" Morsan demanded, clutching his neck.  
"Oh, nothing, just a wild guess." Ignan mimed innocence, smirking to himself inside about the goblin.

Morsan stalked back to London alone several days later, seething every time Ignan happened to mention the word goblin. All too soon, Ignan Storm was packing his trunk, and his mother was crying into her brash coloured knitting.  
"Why couldn't your brother be like you, and not a nasty, horrible…. I can't even call him son of a…" Ignan stopped her before she started the waterworks again. She made him sound like a Gryffindor in comparison.  
"Morsan is not your fault mother, his coming is his own doing. Look after yourself, and I will write as much as I can. I promise I'll keep my head down and do well in those final exams." She cradled his head.  
"You do Ignan, you do. You'll be a fine healer one day. Give my regards to Izabella." He stepped back into the fireplace and dashed the handful of powder by his feet, declaring his destination in a deep voice. Keeping his elbows in, and trunk by his feet he stepped out into the Leaky Cauldron and dusted himself off. Before he could raise his head, Izabella Enigma kissed his sooty face. Her actions caused the nearby drinkers to call out their support and Ignan's knees to almost collapse. Nothing was said, just the gaze between them was enough of a welcome home after the kiss.


End file.
